


A Midwinter’s Night Dream of Bear Island

by clarasimone



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, Erotica, F/M, Plot, Some Humor, True Love, oneirism, passionate love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23007178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarasimone/pseuds/clarasimone
Summary: After surviving the Battle of Winterfell, Daenerys and Jorah visit Bear Island on a diplomatic mission, but things don't turn out as expected when the Queen comes to realize what Jorah means to her.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 45
Kudos: 57
Collections: Jorah and Daenerys' Garden of Erotic Delights, Jorleesi Equinox Exchange -Spring 2020





	A Midwinter’s Night Dream of Bear Island

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kingstoken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingstoken/gifts).



> Dear Kingstoken,
> 
> We don't know each other but, I must say, I really fell in love with the prompts you chose. I believe I fulfilled two of them, and added a dash of your third... I also threw in a surprise, which you'll recognize when you stumble upon it (and which I reveal in the end notes - but don't read those just yet !)...
> 
> This tale is set in an AU after episode 3 of Season 8 in which Jorah has survived the Long Night. And saying more would spoil this tale of love and dreams come true.
> 
> My thanks to Lodessa for organizing this Equinox Jorleesi Exchange ! Kisses blown to HouseoftheBear for the seal of approval, Throughtheblue for the proofread, the ever amazing Chryssadirewolf for the accompanying moodboard and Marmalademouse for the Camelot edit which closes this tale!

****

**A Midwinter’s Night Dream of Bear Island**

| 

Sitting in a carriage taking her to Bear Island Keep, Daenerys felt restless. This was not what she had planned.

Upon setting foot on the rugged island, the most remote in the Seven Kingdoms, the would-be Queen of Westeros had wanted to ride her new Northern mare, and ride her proudly, at the very head of the column… with Ser Jorah, come back to his home after such a long exile. _When I take the Seven Kingdoms, I need you by my side._ So, of course, she had seen herself next to her General. Next to her Knight. Next to her…

Daenerys’ mind didn’t know how to finish her troubled thoughts. So, it latched on to something less dangerous, like… the weather. Surviving it, that is. They had defeated the Night King so, surely, she could brace herself for yet another snow flurry. Though, how annoying really, that their victory had not brought back summertime…

A snowstorm was raging around them as provisions were being discharged from their ship and, preparing for the ride to House Mormont, Daenerys had not been able to persuade Jorah to let her ride with him. After a few heated words, she had relinquished, bowing to Jorah’s stubborn suggestion that she keep to the closed coach, with Missandei. So here they were, the Dragon Queen and her Southern Isle friend, looking rather like forlorn desert kittens tucked underneath heavy pelts. They tried to make small talk but soon gave up, given how bumpy the road was. They needed a sleigh, not clunky wheels. Daenerys made a mental note of it…

_Argh!_ Such trivial thoughts! Daenerys sighed and grew even more restless. But anything was better than remembering, for the umpteenth time, the moment when, glowering at Jorah, she had settled inside the carriage. Her Knight had looked relieved though, bending inside after her, with a bear’s pelt in his hands. It was white and luxuriously shiny. He had chosen it for her, she was sure of it. And it moved her, though she pretended like it was nothing. She had raised her arms to welcome the fur upon her lap, still looking a bit miffed and regal. But then something had happened which had made her do a double-take on Jorah’s features. He had wavered. It was nothing, just a fleeting hesitation when his face got too close to hers and his eyes drifted to her lips. Daenerys had seen a sudden sadness color the blue of his eyes, and this, in turn, beget something like shame in her own. Blinking, she and Jorah had had to turn their glances away. And, barely breaking his stride, her Knight had simply shifted his body to hand over the pelt to Missandei.

Missandei, of course, pretended not to notice anything, and finished what Jorah could not. Tucking her Queen under the bear’s pelt, the young advisor had opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. It pained her so to see her regal friend become more and more estranged from her feelings. She had hoped things would change for her, the day she was reunited with Ser Jorah in Westeros. Or certainly after the Battle of Winterfell. If truth be told, Missandei believed she knew Daenerys’ heart better than her Mistress. Of course, she also understood politics and saw, like her Queen, that Jon Snow did indeed make for a perfect diplomatic match. Yet, if Daenerys’ plan was to break the wheel, could she not find a way to let her heart take precedence over strategy? Feeling a bit despondent, Missandei took out her notebook. She was studying apothecary thanks to Samwell Tarly. Might as well learn something useful if they were to stay on in the North. Sighing to herself, she wondered if she could learn to make… love potions.

Missandei needn’t have worried about finding a way to make Daenerys look into her soul; the debate was already raging there. Howling at Daenerys, in fact, much like the wind outside their coach. _Gods, Jorah must be freezing by now!_

Daenerys tried to peep outside but seeing nothing through the snow flurries, she sunk deeper inside her furs and, smiling briefly at Missandei, closed her eyes. She did try, then, to concentrate on the diplomatic mission at hand: they were coming to Bear Island to secure more troops before marching down to King’s Landing. While Jon was reaching out to his bannermen in the East, Daenerys had decided she would cover the most westerly parts of the northern kingdom and so pay her respects to Lyanna, the diminutive Lady of Bear Island, gone back to her Keep after the battle of Winterfell. But instead of tallying strategic arguments and promises, her mind kept wandering back to Jorah and the more personal reasons he, and she, might have to finally set foot on Bear Island.

A few hours before the Battle of Winterfell, she had found him in deep reflection, looking out towards the wide expanses of the Northern landscape.

_"It is surprisingly beautiful" Daenerys said, referring to the sunset they were witnessing._

_"The north can be quite beautiful. There are_ _these_ _two waterfall_ _s,_ _in a secluded glen near the heart of Bear Island, and when the summer sunshine hits them, you would swear they are the birthplace of rainbows. I wish I could have shown them to you."_

_"You will, someday."_

Jorah hadn't responded. He had just continued to stare out the window, with a look of sad longing.

And it hadn’t left him.

They had won the Long Night, against all odds, but it was still there, this sadness! Seeing it, feeling it, made Daenerys suffer as much as her Knight. This wall between them, it was palpable. She knew it had to do with Jon, of course. Jon whom she had loved, and still loved, or thought she did anyway… all the while also feeling herself profoundly linked to Jorah.

From the first, of course, he had always been there, been _the one,_ her declared enamored Knight and steadfast protector, regardless of his early offenses. And their link had deepened even more during the Battle of Winterfell. She still had dreams about it. Even now, entombed inside layers of furs in this freezing coach, she could feel her body come ablaze once more with the fires of Winterfell, those surrounding Jorah and her… and those uniting them as they fought side by side. She had been terrified but also never felt more alive. She had expected Jon to dive to her, on top of his dragon, to come rescue her, but it had been Jorah. It was always Jorah. It was always _going to be_ Jorah. Reliving the moment, she saw it, she saw _them_ , standing together, covered with blood. She saw herself reaching for dragonglass, taking up arms herself, and wielding her makeshift sword like a banshee, to defend herself but also to protect Jorah, her Knight, the man she…

Daenerys gasped: The man she _loved_.

That night, fighting for each other, as equals, they had become one. They had wed each other on that field, hadn’t they? _Oh Gods…_

“Your Grace?”

Daenerys’ eyes snapped opened. She was squeezing Missandei’s hand into a pulp and her friend was rightfully worried.

“I’m sorry, Missandei. I…” Was she going to tell her, confess this moment of epiphany? “I… I must have fallen asleep. I…”

Missandei knew Daenerys was lying but didn’t want to push her. “My Queen, sometimes it helps to speak of one’s… dreams?”

Daenerys was looking back at her friend, breathing hard, with beads of sweat on her forehead… but shaking her head in denial. Seeing this, Missandei took her Lady’s hand in hers, and she squeezed it gently.

“Sometimes we _dream_ of those we care about and long for. I’m sure Jon Snow is safe, my Queen.”

Those words elicited no reaction from Daenerys, so Missandei continued in her soft, melodious voice. “And surely you know… that death has no dominion over Ser Jorah.”

_These_ words, though, sent a shiver through her Queen, as Missandei suspected they would. She started to say something more but… just then, their coach came to an abrupt halt. Orders were shouted and, the next moment, someone was opening the carriage’s door. They had arrived at the Keep.

***

Marching towards the great wooden portals of House Mormont, Daenerys tried to surmise the whereabouts of Jorah. _She had to see him._ And, truly, he _should_ be next to her… Craning her neck and looking about, but seeing only her Unsullied guards, Daenerys grabbed Missandei and shouted next to her ear to make herself heard over the howling winds:

“I cannot find Ser Jorah!”

“He went up ahead, Your Grace!”

Daenerys refrained from saying more or letting frustration overcome her… and she decided to just forge on, with her royal entourage.The procession was definitely disorganized, but decorum was a hard thing to pull off in the middle of a blizzard. Surely it would fix itself once inside the Keep.

…And for a few moments, after the tall doors opened and then sealed themselves with a formidable thunder-like sound, Daenerys forgot to worry because of what she discovered inside. The architecture of the Keep! Made of gigantic logs! It was awe-inspiring. So much bigger than it appeared from the outside. And how proud the people stood looking at her, with a dignified but feral glint in their eyes: she simply let herself glide along.

The decor was all at once rugged and naturally elegant. And through the smell of the tar and molten iron holding it all together, Daenerys could also breathe in something green and alive, the wild sap of spruces, and it somehow made her throat constrict with emotion. _She would have to tell Jorah_ … Oh! the stained-glass windows! There were artists on the Island? Daenerys marveled at how these colorful panels depicted, not warring scenes, or godly apparitions, but everyday life tableaux: hunting, fishing, hard-working peasants, women and men equally engaged in making a life for themselves and finding beauty and happiness in simple things. And Daenerys smiled seeing freshly made wreaths decorating the path they were led to follow.

The Queen had to admit that she had not expected Lady Lyanna to welcome her in this manner. And with music accompanying their steps! Such refinement, regardless of the frugal sparseness of their surroundings, and the harshness of their lives. But Lyanna was a young girl and, though she hid it well, maybe something like the bud of romanticism was growing inside that fierce little frame of hers. Ser Jorah certainly was a romantic… Those books he had given her and which she kept, even when they had to give up so much in the Red Waste!

Daenerys’ thoughts, once more turning to her Knight, made her flinch. Her retinue was now entering the great hall, and so, she leaned in towards Missandei.

“Where is _he_?”

“Who, Your Grace?”

“Ser Jorah. He should be…”

“Who?”

Daenerys started… and then looked at her advisor with a more-than-miffed expression.

“Ser Jorah!”

Incomprehensibly, Missandei frowned, as if confused by Daenerys’ words, and so the Queen added, sarcastically: “Of House Mormont?”

But Missandei did not respond. She just looked… worried.

“Your Grace, are you feeling quite alright?”

_What?..._ Daenerys camouflaged the panic seeping through her with anger.

“Missandei! I swear by the Gods, Old and New, that if you…”

While Daenerys was seeing red, her whisper ablaze, a voice, that of a Maester, was pronouncing official greetings. His words barely reaching her, Daenerys was still trying to reason with Missandei when she found herself at the forefront of the procession, with the noble women and men parting to let her through. And then somehow, she heard something that made her look ahead. And her life came to a sudden halt.

“… the Lord of Bear Island, Jorah Mormont!”

Not breathing, but pulled by some invisible force, Daenerys found herself taking a few steps forward, towards the tall figure standing in a shaft of light, in the very center of the slightly raised platform. There was no more music, no more murmurs, nothing. Just this otherworldly apparition.

Jorah. In regal attire. _Her_ Jorah… and yet, not him.

This made no sense at all. The only thing she could process was… the glory of him. He was standing proudly, in front of an unfurled banner of his House, emerald green. But he was dressed in midnight blue formal attire, a long row of silver buttons running down his tight-fitting chemise and cuffs. His tall frame was wrapped in a full-length cape, made of dark velvet, and lined with soft, brown fur crossing his ample shoulders and chest, while light from the torches caught on the shiny pendants and heavy chain falling over his heart. The same light was also caressing his ginger hair and beard; weaving gold through his gruff and short curls. She had never, ever seen Jorah like this. It took her breath away. And then, it got worse, because she recognized the azure of his eyes, and her heart began to pound in her chest when his glance came to hold her captive. She couldn’t read his expression, but it _was_ him. Jorah. Yet, how could this be? And where was Lady Lyanna? Daenerys opened her mouth to speak but it was Missandei’s voice that broke the silence.

“Lord Mormont, you stand in the presence of…”

Turning swiftly to Missandei, Daenerys watched her friend closely and could not fathom why she was addressing Jorah so formally, so easily. That is, without a shred of surprise. Missandei’s voice was dignified and leveled as she kept presenting her Queen to “his Lordship”.

When the usual litany of titles was nearing its end, Daenerys once more turned her glance toward Jorah, and she thought she saw something like a flicker of amusement flash across his face. And _that_ instantly woke the dragon in her. This whole charade might be sorcery, but she was not going to let any chimerical Lord of Bear Island mock her. Bracing herself and clenching her fists, she took one step forward… and slipped on the stones. There was a commotion and…

… strong hands picked her up in a whoosh, while an enveloping arm pulled her close to a warm chest.

Jorah!

Had he ever held her like this, his hand sliding to the small of her back to pull her even closer? Daenerys’ breath caught, and she blushed, feeling the once-more amused gaze of her… Knight? Lord host? Or captor? It felt like he was… looking upon her with that smile, that roguish smile.

“Your Grace…”

That rumble of his, so familiar, and yet so much more confident.

“You should watch your step. Bear Island can be dangerous.”

Daenerys was about to retort and pull away from Jorah’s audacious embrace when she felt the cold winter air bite her cheeks through the soft white fur capping her head and hugging her features. She looked up and saw the sky.

_What were they doing outside?_ Why weren’t they still inside the great hall?

_Oh Gods, what was this?_ They were alone. In the snow. And she had tripped into Jorah’s arms. _She was losing her mind!_

As if sensing how truly shaken his guest was, Lord Mormont softened his voice, and loosened his embrace to make it more respectable.

“There, I have you. Nothing to fear.”

_Nothing to fear._ Even through the disarray of her mind, Daenerys was able to latch onto those words and believe them. Believe the man who was saying them to her. And he did _have her_. She’d always felt incredibly secure in Jorah’s arms. He had always _had her_.

So… she heard herself play along.

“I don’t frighten easily, Lord Mormont.”

_Gods_ , Jorah thought, _the fire in her violet irises_. He couldn’t stop gazing into them: “I would imagine not.”

The Lord of Bear Island knew he should be letting go of his royal visitor. Yet, he didn’t.

“So then, shall we continue to peruse _my_ lands and _your_ Kingdom…”

That smile was back.

“Or would you rather we retrace our steps to the Keep… Your Grace?”

Leave it to Jorah to sound all at once defiant and proudly obedient, Daenerys thought. This Lord Mormont was much like her Knight had been when she first knew him, before she banished him. The memory made her wince, and Lord Mormont’s smile faltered.

“Are you hurt?”

There was suddenly real concern in his voice, as his arm tightened around her once more while his eyes searched her figure for some trace of injury. Her ankle maybe?

“I’m fine, my Lord! Please. I… I would… very much like for us to see more of Bear Island.”

Smiling once more, but a bit more bashfully this time, Jorah stepped away to give her room to walk again, and that’s when she saw the vista open up before her. _Gods!_ Daenerys’ breath caught in her throat. _What a beautiful world!_ They were standing on top of a hill and, the storm having given way to sunshine, her eyes could embrace the wide expanse of the Island, with its blueish forests, and its silver mountains rising to the North, and the green ocean to the West. It was more beautiful than she had imagined.

This is the land her Jorah had been banished from. The home he had relinquished to stay with her even after his pardon. And the treasure which _this Jorah_ never had to leave. When she turned once more to her host, there were tears in her eyes and she saw him look at her with something like wonder.

“Jorah…” she whispered then, letting go of formalities, “I didn’t know.”

“My Queen…” Jorah’s own voice was barely above a whisper, and he let it trail off. He thought it wisest not to add anything, or question Daenerys. Too many words would break the spell of this moment between them. So, he simply raised his arm for Daenerys to take hold of it, and he led them onwards, down the crackling snow path.

***

“No!” Lord Mormont shook his head again, a soft chuckle rumbling through his chest.

“Yes! I tell you, he did! In Qarth!” Daenerys’s eyes were sparkling, “Drogon was just a few weeks old and he roasted his own dinner!”

Gods, her cheeks were beginning to hurt from the amount of smiling she was letting herself experience in the presence of this chimerical Jorah. She couldn’t remember feeling this elated. Ever. Every time her eyes fell on the figure which the Lord of House Mormont cut in his elegant outfit, she had to bite her lip. And it was even worse when he’d capture her gaze with his own. He made her feel like the young woman she had never been allowed to be… Blushing, whenever he came very near. It was happening right now, because his hands were daring to come adjust the large hood of her white fur cape, to protect her from the cold. How had she come to wear such a beautiful, luminous garment? He had it made for her? Or were those questions one should not ask in a dream?

Lord Mormont was speaking in the velvety rumble Daenerys knew so well, but she was barely registering what he was saying. She couldn’t get past how well he looked. How… happy. Seeing this version of Jorah, untainted by all the horrors they had to endure in Essos and in Winterfell was a revelation. He didn’t even know about the Long Night, she surmised. Because the Long Night never existed here, whatever or whenever “here” was. This Lord Mormont had, of course, lived and suffered and been injured, because life on Bear Island was a far cry from the hedonistic indulgences of Dorne. But… But his skin wasn’t scarred by greyscale, and the lines around his eyes seemed fewer to her, and brought on by levity, not glowering. It’s what she could observe looking at him, right now, laughing softly over her tale of precocious dragons. And it’s what her heart was wishing for him as they stood together in this beautiful snow-covered glen. The very one her Jorah had described to her, on the eve of Winterfell’s great battle.

And then it struck her. The near fatal injuries he had suffered on that hellish battlefield, and all the other ones before, in the name of love: had _her_ Jorah never met her, her Knight would have suffered less. His path could have crossed that of a desert beauty, and he would have found happiness with her. The thought was breaking her heart even as this Jorah was smiling down upon her. And to stop the tears from coming, Daenerys lunged at him.

To kiss him.

She felt herself clinging to him for a few seconds before he kissed her back, engulfing her in his arms and lifting her to him.

So, this is what it felt like: kissing Jorah Mormont and being kissed by him. This is what she could have experienced in Qarth, and in Meereen, and… And her mind couldn’t form words anymore. She whimpered on Jorah’s mouth, famished and desperate, until he pulled away, his hands grabbing her shoulders and his eyes peering down into hers, almost in shock.

“Your Grace, I… You…”

She was scaring him; how could he understand?

“Lord Mormont, please forgive me, I…” She was pulling away from him, suddenly ashamed, but then she felt herself being pulled back in; Jorah’s large hand opening on her back, to press her tightly to him, while the other came to cup her face. He caressed her cheek then, delicately, while his eyes perused her features, her eyes, her lips.

“No… Stay. Let me…”

And he took her lips again, softly at first, and then more possessively, nipping at her plump lips before his tongue explored her mouth tenderly. His gruff was tickling her and making her tingle all over. Would he kiss her like this, into the night? Would he take his time with her, like a bee foraging for pollen, like a bear looking for honey? The way he was feasting on her mouth, it might as well be her other lips he tasted. She could feel it. She let the thought awaken her whole being. Daenerys was swooning… When Jorah pulled back, to let them both come up for air, they stood mere centimeters apart, heaving softly. The Lord of House Mormont put his forehead on Daenerys’ then, and he whispered, hoarsely.

“I am pledged to House Stark and you are the Queen, but… Daenerys,” he looked at her, daring calling her by her given name, with no titles between them, “I am not a man you can play courtly games with. There is no need for that. You came for my men. Ask and you shall receive.”

Daenerys couldn’t possibly begin to make this Jorah understand where all of this was coming from, and what he meant to her. So, she simply caressed his cheek, the way she did so many times before, drinking in the same amorous gaze in return. And then… she couldn’t have said why or how she knew to do what she did next, but she pulled away and, looking in the direction of the frozen waterfalls, she knelt to lay her hand on the icy banks of the pond.

And the snow began to melt.

It melted all around the hidden body of water, creating a green halo of grass and tender flowers, until the waterfalls came back to life and, with it, light beams dancing on its spurting jets. When she stood up again, turning towards a mesmerized Jorah, her smile was as luminous as what she had just created, and she confessed, speaking slowly and carefully:

“Where I come from, there was a great battle between the forces of Life and Death. And, a few hours before it began, I found… _you,_ in deep reflection, Jorah, looking out towards the wide expanses of the Northern landscape.”

Lord Mormont flinched briefly but he said nothing. He let Daenerys continue, his gaze respectful though her words made little, if any, sense to him. But her eyes did not lie.

_‘It is surprisingly beautiful,’_ I answered you, referring to the sunset we were both witnessing. You see, it had hues of pink and violet, and the last rays of sunshine made the snow sparkle.

_‘The north can be quite beautiful,’_ you replied. _‘There are these two waterfalls, in a secluded glen near the heart of Bear Island, and when the summer sunshine hits them, you would swear they are the birthplace of rainbows. I wish I could have shown them to you.’_

Walking back to Lord Mormont, and putting her hand over the rich apparel covering his heart, she resumed:

“This is what you told me, Jorah. And I answered: _‘You will, someday.’_ And you did. Just now. Don’t you see? And so…” Leaning into Jorah, Daenerys whispered the rest:

“…I believe, _my love_ , that I have not come here to ask you for anything, but to give you back the rainbows that were stolen from you.”

And, it was true. The rainbows were here, arching over them. Rainbows in the middle of a midwinter dream of Bear Island. Overwhelmed, Lord Mormont took Daenerys back in his arms and…

“Do other men look at you and believe you are real? Because I cannot.”

“I know.”

_Oh Jorah…_

Daenerys smiled tenderly answering Lord Mormont in this fashion, and then tried to smooth out his confusion with another caress to his cheek, her fingers raking through his gruff and teasing the lobe of his ear.

“But it’s not what I want anymore. I want you to look at me the way you did, in the great hall, when my titles did not impress you. I want you to be the man that dared keep a Queen too close to him when she almost fell. I want…”

***

“Gods. Jorah. Please!”

He was holding her close and peering down so intently into her eyes. She was drowning in what she saw there, so much desire, as she was coming undone again in his arms. She didn’t know how many times Jorah had made her soar through the night, but she was shattering again, looking up at him, seeing him trying to control his breathing, and suffering through it, on the brink of ecstasy while he kept his own pleasure at bay. His arm around her waist was pulling her into his every thrust, while his other hand was pinning her wrists over her head to better anchor his feverish claiming… and, by the Gods, she couldn’t get enough of it! She was pleading for more and he was giving it to her… and it felt so good, abandoning herself to this unleashing of passion.

“Daenerys, I…”

She knew what this meant, and she wanted it. Counter-thrusting towards Jorah, she made him moan deeply just before her mouth reached his. And when she kissed him, biting into his lips, he came. So violently, he quivered like a beautiful, formidable beast, his hips whipping a few more times into her, uncontrollably, while his fingers dug into her flesh, at the waist, to keep her close. His head was nestled into her neck now, and he was panting there, biting and kissing and rubbing his gruff on her tender skin to accompany the possessive throbbing of his release in the very core of her.

With a last quiver, Jorah’s sweat-covered muscles began to shake, drained of all their adrenaline, and he let himself tumble onto the sheets, bringing Daenerys with him. He was incapable of letting her go. She smiled then, wrapping her leg across his hip, while they lay facing each other, on their sides, and she caressed his gruff, waiting for him to get his breath back. When he opened his eyes, he was looking at her with so much love and gratitude, she felt like a gift from the Gods, and her heart ached suddenly thinking of her Knight, the other Jorah whom she had never loved like this. The Jorah she might never be _able_ to love like this!

“Daenerys? What is it?”

It’s only when she heard him speak that she understood that she was crying. The Lord of Bear Island was holding her close again and brushing a tear away with his thumb.

“Did I hurt you, did I…”

She shook her head to reassure him, but she couldn’t speak. And he didn’t press her. Tenderly, his hand went to caress a lock of her hair, brushing it back behind her ear, and then he traced her cheek, and the line of her jaw, while he searched her eyes, waiting patiently. But she couldn’t; she simply couldn’t tell him more than she had already. So, instinctively, Jorah raised himself on his elbow and he tenderly kissed her cheek, to drink the tears he could not stop.

“Hush… my Queen…”

“I don’t want to go.”

Jorah looked at her then and he felt it, her incommensurable loneliness.

Daenerys and her royal entourage were to be his guests for a fortnight. And, by the Gods, he would spend every second of it with her and fill their time together with wonder and joy. And with any luck, the bad weather would make them stay longer. Jorah loved this woman, this Queen he knew next to nothing about before this morning. It made little sense, but it meant everything…

“Jorah, don’t let me go!”

Seeing her like this, it wasn’t his reason that spoke next, it was his heart.

“I won’t. I won’t let you go! When the time comes, Daenerys, let the others depart, and we will wish them good fortune.” Seeing her wince, holding back more tears, Jorah spoke again, more ardently. “I will take you on my charge and steal you away where they will never find us. If that is your wish. Is it?... Daenerys, do you hear me?”

“Jorah, you don’t understand…”

But Jorah cut her short. “I do understand. I understand that you are a Queen and that you have responsibilities and that you won’t rule the Seven Kingdoms from its remotest location, nor wed its most insignificant Lord…”

This time, it was Daenerys who cut Jorah short, by pressing her fingers to his lips and shaking her head vigorously. In her world, no one would _ever_ let her wed the Knight she loved, but they _would_ let her wed the Lord of Bear Island. The irony was cutting through her… and it wasn’t even the worst of her sufferings.

“You are not insignificant.” She had to raise herself to speak now, and make sure her lover Lord hear her well. She knelt on the bed and took his face in her hands. “You are the most extraordinary man I have ever met. In any realm. Jorah…”

She kissed him, then, before whispering, feverishly: “You could hide me away, this very night, in the most secret of all the glens on your _beautiful_ island and it would make no difference. My fate, and yours, would remain the same…”

Pulling back, she peered into his eyes, before concluding: “…You won’t be there, tomorrow, when I wake up. This is _my_ dream, not yours.”

Clearly, Jorah wasn’t understanding any of this, nor did he care to. Sitting up, he grabbed Daenerys, a little too tightly because…

“Why are you doing this to yourself? You’re here, now, with me. I am not going anywhere, and neither are you. I won’t let you…”

He was hurting her, not realizing how his fingers were digging into her arms, but she didn’t care. In fact, she wanted it. The pain told her that she was indeed here, _inhabiting this moment_ , with him.

“Promise?” Her voice was breaking.

“I do. I swear it, Daenerys of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons… and Queen of _this_ heart. …I. Will. Not. Vanish.”

Though she was smiling through her tears throughout Jorah’s half-mocking, half-earnest intense incantation of her titles, a sob escaped her lips when he was done.

“Then don’t let me fall asleep.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Seeing her smile, regardless of her sob, Jorah’s expression softened and so did his embrace. His voice even found its roguish lilt again, as his strong body towered over Daenerys once more, to lay her back unto the bed.

“Queen Daenerys, are you challenging the Lord of House Mormont, the warden of Bear Island, the undisputed champion of this Keep and the Master of men known to fight, _and love,_ with the strength of 10 Mainlanders? Are you challenging him to keep you ablaze until the sun rises? Are you?...”

Slipping her fingers through Jorah’s curls, she smiled at him with stars in her eyes, waiting for her head to touch the pillow and his mouth to come claim hers.

And her fate be damned!...

Some time later, when her eyes perceived the night sky turning to that special shade of blueish dawn, and when her whimpers turned to pleading hiccups, Jorah raised his amorous face from her secret folds and smiled, before kissing her luscious pearl one last time.

“Gods. Jorah. Please. I can’t anymore…”

Lifting himself and sliding next to Daenerys, his hand cupping her breast tenderly, he refrained from teasing her. But he did kiss her, gently. It made her laugh groggily, because his lips and gruff were maculated with honey, her own. She lapped at it too, making him rumble, and press his manhood to her. She was exciting him anew.

“No. No more,” she whispered on his lips.

“Then stop.”

He was growling, low, but both were smiling through their tender and naughty embrace.

“Daenerys, love, close your eyes. It’s nearly dawn. You should rest.”

She shook her head, like a stubborn child.

“My Queen, let go. _Trust me_ … Do you feel my arms?”

She had to nod yes, breathing hard.

“Do you feel _this_?” He put her hand on his burning shaft. It was so hard again, her breath caught in her throat.

“And do you feel my heart, _beating for you_?”

She did. _She did._

“Well, all of it, will be here when you wake up. I won’t disappear.”

He was mistaken, she still knew that. And she was fighting slumber, her fingers running through his hair, while her lips formed incomprehensible words of love. But her eyelids were getting so heavy. And he was kissing them shut.

“Jorah…”

She wanted so to keep seeing the azure of his eyes peering down on her. Her eyelids fluttering, it was the last thing she saw, before whispering into the darkness…

“I love you.”

***

When she woke, the first thing Daenerys saw, from lying on her side, was sunshine pouring in. It was going to be a glorious day. She felt it in her heart, and in her body still deliciously aching _and_ floating from the lovemaking she experienced. Smiling, her eyes glided to the table next to the bed and she saw there her combs, her silver dragon jewelry… and her jars of lotions. The things she kept in her _Winterfell_ bedchamber.

Of course.

And so, Daenerys closed her eyes slowly, letting sorrow engulf her. Why couldn’t she have been mistaken, just this once?

The tears came silently and so did her sobs, Daenerys’ body tensing to stop herself from screaming. That’s when she felt the weight of a man’s hand on her shoulder.

No…. no, no, no… Jon had sometimes shared her bed in Winterfell and… she couldn’t. Please, not this. She had to be alone.

“Khaleesi?”

Swiftly, Daenerys turned around. Jorah! _Her Jorah_! Pausing for just one second, to gaze upon his precious, if worried, expression, she threw her arms around him, and let her sobs turn to relief. She was rocking in his embrace, relishing his strength as he tightened his grip around her. She was smelling his skin, and kissing his neck, raking his gruff with her fingernails, and repeating his name, while he was trying to comfort her with whispers.

“Hush… my love. It’s over. I’m here. Shhhh…. Khaleesi, you had a bad dream…”

Trying to smile through the last of her sobs, Daenerys shook her head and looked at her Knight. It _was_ really him. She could hardly believe it.

“No, it wasn’t a nightmare, it was the most _glorious_ of dreams, and you were there, and we were on Bear Island, and you had decorated the Keep with lovely wreaths, because you were the Lord, and you wore this _amazing_ costume, and it smelled like spruce, Jorah, and you made fun of me, and I fell and you took me in your arms, and I made the rainbows come back, and… and I could love you.”

Daenerys was talking in a frenzy, dizzying her Knight while pushing him back onto their raised pillows, to better peer into his eyes while half-laying on top of him. Her hands were claiming the expanse of his chest, beloved and scarred, her fingers raking through his soft fur. She needed to hear his heart beat while she was still trying to explain.

_“I could love you_ , Jorah, do you see? And, I didn’t want to wake up because then you’d be gone.”

Jorah was trying to follow, gazing at Daenerys, half-smiling, and half in shock.

“…And you promised me that you wouldn’t. Be gone. And I didn’t believe you. And I should have because when have you ever lied to me? When have you ever broken a promise? And you’re here. You’re…”

Daenerys was never able to finish her diatribe because Jorah brought her face to his, to silence her with a fierce kiss. When he was sure he could let go of her, sensing her relaxing under his touch, he parted from her lips and whispered carefully.

“Last night, there was a feast, to send off Jon and his men, and after they left, you wanted to drink some gods-forsaken mixture left behind by Tormund…”

_Oh Gods, had she gotten drunk?_

As if hearing her silent question, Jorah answered her with a knowing look.

“… _But I didn’t let you_... So, you drank the herbal tea Missandei left for you… Sweet, innocent Missandei.”

_Oh no, Missandei’s apothecary lessons!_

“When you said you wanted to dance, I didn’t object. Because a Knight obeys his Queen. And because you never looked… lovelier.”

Recalling the moment, Jorah’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and his hold tightened on her. Daenerys understood then, that she basically threw herself at him, Missandei’s philter breaking down all her inhibitions. _Oh dear…_

“And then, you claimed it was getting very warm in the great hall and shouldn’t we shed some of our clothes…”

Daenerys closed her eyes for a second, mortified, while Jorah went on.

“Which, of course, made no sense… and then you fell, while trying to disrobe. You fell into my arms. _The woman I love_ fell into my arms, Daenerys. _At last_.”

Jorah paused then and oh how that pause was loaded.

“And I had to bring you here. And I should have known better but your eyes, my Queen, held such promises…”

_Of course, her eyes told him that she loved him, because it was the truth._

“And I was not strong enough to deny my heart when you ordered me to stay...”

There was another pause. Just long enough for Daenerys to realize that she was now straddling her once chaste Knight, with her soft belly pressing into his manhood, and her naked breasts brushing the fur on his chest. 

“So here I am, Khaleesi, in your bedchamber. Where, it appears, you made love to _someone else_. All. Night. Long.”

Daenerys held her breath then because, suddenly, Jorah’s features seemed inscrutable. _Oh no! Had she hurt his feelings?_ Her mind racing, one of her hands went to caress her Knight’s cheek, her expression contrite and her eyes desperate to let him know how much she loved him. _Him_. She was about to tell him when…

“So, tell me, Your Grace, should I be jealous of this Lord Mormont?”

_Wait, what was that? A glint in his eyes? Jest in his tone?_

“Shall I, at once, set sail for your chimerical Bear Island to commit some form of… regicide? _Twinicide?..._ _What_ _does_ one call the slaying of one’s own double, bearing a higher title?”

_Oh Jorah…_

He pulled her close to him, with just the trace of a smile and such fierce resolve in his eyes.

“I love you, Daenerys Stormborn, and you love me, and we have wasted enough time.”

There was a roguishness to his voice, the same one he seduced her with, in her dream, and it stole her breath away. As did the set line of his jaw. And those muscles twitching underneath his high cheekbones.

“So, hear me: there will be no other, and if any man dares even look at you, I don’t care who he is, I shall put my sword through him.”

There was a playful but virile thrust then on her honeyed pearl. For emphasis. And Daenerys gasped softly, remembering their dalliance, while feeling Jorah’s cock anew. Jorah’s _wonderful_ priapic,Bear Island cock. She almost reached down, to caress it, and make _him_ moan, but then decided to wait. First, she had to meet her Knight’s playful banter. So, slowly, she lowered her face to his, while still straddling him, her glance hypnotic.

“Jorah, who saw me down in the great hall?”

“No one, Khaleesi. But me.”

She swayed on him, her caress eliciting the most wonderful rumble out of his chest. 

“So, no one knows we spent the night together?”

“Oh no, Khaleesi.” Breathing deeply, Jorah lifted his head to kiss her, and then looked into her eyes before explaining: “ _Everyone_ knows. Your cries…”

As if on cue, Daenerys whimpered again, feeling Jorah hands glide down to her hips, to help her sway on him. He drank in her moan, and then he started his sentence anew. 

“Your cries of pleasure even woke the direwolfs. You made them howl!”

“Oh!”

Jorah’s remark should have worried the Queen, but it made Daenerys smile, and:

“So, everyone knows…” she repeated, aroused and strangely relieved, adding: “And the sky hasn’t fallen?”

“No.”

Jorah smiled into Daenerys’ eyes again, letting the information sink in, before pulling her to him. How dangerously close they were to dallying once more, with his famished manhood brushing against her secret lips, so slick with want. Yet, he too prolonged the wait, to add a small amendment.

“Though… who knows, really?... We’ll just have to see, when we leave your bedchamber.”

Moving swiftly, and surprising Daenerys, Jorah punctuated his words by lifting her and making her wrap her legs around his waist, while he knelt on the bed. Crushing Daenerys to his heart, one hand slipped to the small of her back, to push her mound to him, while the other opened between her shoulder blades to make her look at him. Daenerys gasped seeing Jorah’s features turning feral. And then, they softened again.

“Won’t we, Khaleesi?”

Jorah was waiting for his Queen’s answer. So much depended on it. He breathed once and she drowned in the azure of his eyes. They were the portals to his soul, and they showed such depth of emotion. There it was, that vulnerability which he only ever showed _her_.

Feeling herself on the wake of some defining moment, Daenerys slipped her fingers through Jorah’s ginger curls, and pressed herself even more to his throbbing manhood. It was raised between them and, by the Gods, she felt his heart pounding there. It was so abundantly clear that this man loved her with every fiber of his being! And she longed now, to pledge herself to him. To dissipate all doubt.

“Yes, Jorah, we will face them all. Together. And the rules be damned! Be damned protocol! Be damned the Seven Kingdoms! …I love _you_ and only you.”

He kissed her then, before the tears could come and, feverishly, they both moved as one to claim one another.

Daenerys brushed over Jorah, leaving a honeyed trail and, a lightning bolt seizing him, he speared her, with no mercy, lifting her up, with every powerful thrust of his thighs. She moaned and whimpered, savoring the rapture… _Gods, the breadth of him._ It made her roll her hips and throw her head back, while he quivered through her, like a beautiful beast in rut, exhaling on her skin, and biting into her neck while in the throes of passion. She tugged on Jorah’s curls, to hold on fast while feeling the full strength of him, searing her. She couldn’t get enough of his thrusting into her riding motion, and how his arm circling her waist was now forcing her down on him. She felt tiny in his bear-like embrace and she relinquished wantonly when he dipped her back to lay claim to her breasts, with his mouth, while still bucking into her. Wet kisses teasing her sensitive buds, making her mewl seductively, and tighten around the length of his shaft, creaming it.

“ _Yes_ , love…” Jorah growled while his Khaleesi mewled again. “Just like that…”

Brazen words for Jorah, but he couldn’t help himself: the way she let him possess her just made his cock harden even more, and feverish whispers escape his throat. The feeling of her was so delicious, Jorah felt like a man tasting ecstasy… and all of it, the claiming and Jorah’s voice, made her soar, without warning, her legs shaking around his waist.

_Gods,_ she would never forget his eyes then, so full of pride, wonder and love, as she shattered for him.

Trying to control his breathing, and very conscious of Daenerys’ satiated state, Jorah lay her down on the bed, delicately, smiling tenderly when he heard her plead for him not to leave her. He kissed her when he felt her legs find their strength back to tighten their grip around him and, whispering words of love, he started to move again, but very slowly this time, making Daenerys’ feel the whole of him and her sex flutter anew, the fire there still raging.

Taking Jorah’s face into her hands, Daenerys kissed him, drinking his breath while panting herself, her voice a fervent whisper while riding the wave again.

“I will let no man… no woman… nor any creature _ever_ take you away from me. Do you hear me, Jorah? They will know my wrath…”

“ _Dracarys?”_ There was tender laughter in Jorah’s eyes, as he whispered the word, taking her, so deeply now, one of his hands caressing her swollen pearl. She was going to come undone again, his beautiful dragon, he could feel it. And she did, counter-thrusting towards him, and arching her back, with one of her hand digging into the flesh of his tense shoulder and the other, intertwined in his hair. She climaxed with the very command he suggested, on her lips…

_“Dracaryssssss…”_

Jorah felt his chest expand, looking at his love burn once more. He was sworn to her. He would die for her. And he would never tire of pleasuring her.

The rest was lost to bliss in the blaze of winter, with no more need of dreaming to make a Queen love a Knight from Bear Island.

_***_

**_EPILOGUE:_**

It was past the noon hour when they emerged from slumber. Jorah was spooning his Queen, his breath warming her swan’s neck, and his gruff, rubbing there, to nuzzle and lay tender kisses.

“Khaleesi?”

“Mmm?”

“Did he call you thus?”

“What?” she was trying not to wake. “Who?”

“Lord Mormont. In your dream. Did he call you Khaleesi?”

Groggily, Daenerys smiled to herself, perceiving Jorah’s adorable insecurity. She answered him in a sweet whisper: “No my love, he never knew me this way.”

A beat.

“And the costume he wore… Was it better than my yellow goldie?” He seemed incredulous. “Truly?”

This time, Daenerys opened one eye. How was she ever going to get herself out of this one?

“Shhhhh, Jorah, I’m sleeping…”

Daenerys swayed her lovely rump on her Knight’s manhood, and that seemed to do the trick, a low, _low_ rumble telling her they would not be getting out of bed before sunset.

***  
  
---  
  
**Author's Note:**

> For those readers curious as to which wishes I tried to honor, here is what I latched on to from Kingstoken prompts:
> 
> \- Any Rating : Jorah takes Dany to Bear Island for a visit.  
> (Loved the idea !... My inspirations for the demeanor of Jorah, as he shows Daenerys around the Island, were the smiling Jorah in the market scene of Season 1, the more assertive and flirty Jorah at the end of Qaarth and on board the ship he sails on with Daenerys in the opening ep of Season 3... but also the King Arthur of CAMELOT, the 1969 Musical film, who woos Guenevere in a wintery decor. You can see it in Marmalademouse's manip' :-)
> 
> \- Any Rating: Dany/Jorah at a ball, somewhere where they have to dress up, love it if Daenerys gets to see Jorah dressed formally (without armour) for the first time.  
> (I couldn't set it up during a ball but I hope a royal visit was adequate... and Jorah's costume was inspired by the one Iain Glen wears in The Hollow Crown. You see it in Chryssadirewolf's beautiful moodboard !)
> 
> \- Any Rating: Secret relationship, either occurring after canon in an AU where Daenerys is queen, or during a different canon time period. Maybe they think they are being very good at keeping it a secret, but everyone at court knows, and pretends they don't. Bonus if another character has to bring it to their attention that they are not so good at hiding their relationship, and it's an open secret.  
> (I refer to this prompt only at the end, when Jorah informs the Queen that everyone *heard* their lovemaking and so knows about them ;-)
> 
> Also, since I knew nothing about you, Kingstoken, when I received my assignment, I decided to go read some of your work and I fell in love with a lovely scene you wrote and which I used as a flashback in my tale: the scene where Jorah tells Daenerys of the waterfalls he wishes he had shown her on Bear Island. For those readers who would like to read the original, it is called "I'll find you": https://archiveofourown.org/works/20747660
> 
> Kingstoken, I hope you like the end result !
> 
> p.s. the title is, of course, a little wink to Shakespeare's A Midsummer's Night Dream. I couldn't resist !


End file.
